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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28434669">Closeted</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pfeldspar/pseuds/Pfeldspar'>Pfeldspar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Umineko no Naku Koro ni | When the Seagulls Cry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bittersweet, Character Death, Cover Art, F/F, F/M, Hatesex, Makeouts, Meta world, PWP, Shipping Discussion, Trapped In A Closet, implied sex, kakera, lambda and bern’s canon-typical grotesque violent flirting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:27:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,560</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28434669</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pfeldspar/pseuds/Pfeldspar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Battler and Beatrice argue about shipping.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beatrice the Golden Witch/Ushiromiya Battler, Bernkastel/Lambdadelta (Umineko no Naku Koro ni), Ushiromiya Eva/Ushiromiya Natsuhi, Ushiromiya Natsuhi/Ushiromiya Rosa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Closeted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Gay aunt rights</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“There are only three things that may never stay hidden: The sun, the moon, and the truth”<br/>
-Zen Happiness</p><p>Shotgun shells clattered to the floor, deafening in the silence of the resounding boom. Status quo shattered. A turning point, hollow-tipped and glinting gold in the warm light. Nothing gold ever stays. A thin veneer cannot last long in this world. Natsuhi drops the gun, shaking. Hearts racing, hearts stopping. Two hearts, one, three. Count with me now. Keep your eyes focused or you’ll miss it. The sleight of hand. You can’t get complacent or it will pass you by.</p><p>Eva approached Krauss’s rapidly-cooling corpse and confirmed that the deed was indeed done.</p><p>Natsuhi caught her sharp grin before averting her eyes. “I- I can’t believe that I’ve done this. He was-” Natsuhi felt like she should be crying but she wasn’t. She was strangely relieved. Even so, she desperately held onto her sense of decorum, she had grasped onto this life of class and luxury and she didn’t want her image to falter. Even in this situation. Even in front of her brash sister-in-law. She had clawed and scraped to achieve her status, her only tools were manners and superficial beauty. The serving spoon belongs on the left, do not eat before the guests begin a meal, instruct the maids properly, or else it will reflect on you. If your husband makes poor business decisions, it reflects on you. Who do you think you are? Of course you’re cornered on all sides, shame at every turn. It’s never enough, finishing school, happy parents, does it fill the gap in your heart? Can anything fill you? Fix you? Broken hearts can be mended, can souls?</p><p>Eva placed hand on her shoulder, her usual haughty and condescending look reserved seemingly for Natsuhi in place. “He’s nothing now. He was never anything to begin with. Listen to me, when we get out of here, we are going to be richer than in your wildest dreams. My idiot brother’s foolish schemes never would have secured you a comfortable life. No one will be able to control our lives, now. We’re free.”</p><p>Natsuhi opened her mouth to voice a superficial protest for propriety’s sake - as if they hadn’t already been planning this for months (she’s not quite sure who she is when she’s not playing the part) - when a rush of footsteps on the stairs echoed down the hallway.</p><p>“Shit.” Natsuhi’s mind went blank. Escape plan. What was the plan? What was she supposed to do? What would become of her if they got caught? The pressure was overwhelming. A migraine was quickly clawing its way to fruition behind her eyes.</p><p>“Hide!” Eva hissed, climbing into an armoire.</p><p>Natsuhi looked around wildly. Under the bed? No, too obvious. That’s the first place anyone would look for a murderer, right? She ran to the window and looked down. She couldn’t safely jump or climb to the next room over in this downpour. The pounding rain outside reverberated in her head. She winced, panicking. Her head hurt so bad she could die. She wishes she would.</p><p>The doorknob rattled, keys jingled. Look, the fragile peace is already disturbed. Resentments have been boiling for years. There’s no going back now.</p><p>Natushi flung open the armoire and dove in next to Eva, closing the door as everyone piled into the room. Eva glared at her silently. Her stifled breaths unbearably warm against Natsuhi’s cheek. She could hear the wet noise of Eva’s lipstick as she parted her lips to breathe more quietly. She smelled like expensive perfume. Flowers in a bottle. Arsenic and old lace.</p><p>Natsuhi is only dimly aware of the horrified screams of Rokkenjima’s other captives. The sound of her daughter’s sobs over seeing her father’s body. The accusations flung from family member to family member. Nanjo’s diagnosis. Battler trying and failing to not cry while ushering Maria out of the room. Away from the carnage Natsuhi herself had wrought.</p><p>But what really draws Natsuhi’s focus, amidst the fallout of the horror that she herself had unleashed upon the family, this sin against the world, the worst crime imaginable, is Eva’s slender body pressing against her own. The silk of her Chinese gown is cool through the fabric of Natsuhi’s dress. A tantalizingly muffled sensation.</p><p>The hot air in the closet bared down on them.</p><p>Surely Eva was just grasping the ruffles of Natsuhi’s skirts in an effort to steady herself. Even someone as wild and captivating as her could be shaken by an experience such as this. Surely she’s sliding her leg forward to catch her balance. Surely she’s pressing her mouth firmly against natsuhi’s to -</p><p>Oh.</p><p>There was no benign excuse for that.</p><p>The family left in a collection of distressed wails and sobs, the room empty but for Eva and Natsuhi, who do not move, who barely breathe.</p><p>Natsuhi could feel Eva’s heart hammering in her chest, trying to reach between them and become connected, same tempo, one instrument. Eva’s long lashes tickled Natsuhi’s eyelids. Butterfly kisses.</p><p>Eva’s mouth parted. Her toungue was like a blazing inferno, tracing against Natsuhi’s lips. Dante’s journey began with a single step into hell.</p><p>Natsuhi let out a shaky breath and wound her arms around Eva’s back, tilting her head and returning the kiss with an urgent fervor.</p><p>Eva’s hands tangled in her wavy hair as if she were grasping for a lifeline on a cascading sea. They were both swept away in the warmth between their bodies pressed flush together.</p><p>Natsuhi bit Eva’s lower lip and Eva dragged her nails down the back of Natsuhi’s neck, leaving a mark.</p><p>Natsuhi gasped, running her hands up Eva’s hips to palm at her perky breasts.</p><p>Neither of them speak of the tension unspooling between them, of the sweet release of years exploding between their bodies and beneath their eyelids.</p><p>Natsuhi sucked a mark into Eva’s neck, desperate to leave a reminder of this moment, of her own worth.</p><p>Eva pressed her thigh between Natsuhi’s legs and panted, greedily drinking in their shared breaths. Their lipstick smeared, the red mark of shame.</p><p>Natsuhi rocked against Eva’s leg through the texture of her crinoline skirts, a shuddering gasp leaving her mouth.</p><p>Resting on the floorboard, looking up. A worm’s-eye view of the closet shows that there is no ceiling or roof in this part of the house. The strange blue sheen of a wall shimmers an indeterminate space away. Two faces peer down at the scene in the closet: one gleeful, one repulsed.</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Eugh! Okay fine, you win. Uncle! Er- Aunt! Whatever. Just make it stop.” Battler whines with a scowl, backing away from the game board that lay on the table between them admidst a mountain of crumpets and cakes. He wants to hurl his teacup at the mini Rokkenjima resting in its blue cube-shaped coffin. Like taxidermy, animated falsehoods. Preserving the dead out of some sick fascination. Ashes to ashes, let sleeping dogs lie. Don’t parade a corpse around as some sort of marionette. It’s disrespectful of the dead.</p><p>Beatrice leans back in her chair with a cackle, spreading her arms, “Ha! So I’ve finally bested you in a battle of wits! You’ve conceded to the truth of magic and your own foolishness, have you?” she taunts smugly, grinning behind her pipe.</p><p>“No! Of course not! It’s just- I don’t want to see my aunt’s making out.” Battler gets up and paces, wearing a disgusted expression.</p><p>Beatrice watches him with interest, “Oh? You’ve made dirty jokes about your family and flirted with them before, I had not thought you would have such a delicate constitution for seeing your aunts in each other's arms. Do I sense some latent repressed homobophia stemming from your discomfort with your own sexuality?”</p><p>“What? Wh- No! Shut it, Frued. I don’t even understand where you’re going with that. It’s just -I mean- Eva and Natushi? It doesn’t make sense! There’s no way they could have romantic feelings for one another.”</p><p>Narrowing her eyes, Beatrice says, “Is that so? But this fragment tells me otherwise. Can’t you sense it? The love?”</p><p>Battler scoffs at her, “making out in an armoire, real romance right there, huh? That’s true love, alright. Might be the next Romeo and Juliet.”</p><p>“It’s called drama!”</p><p>“They have no chemistry!”</p><p>“Yes they do!”</p><p>“If, and I mean if, my aunts were to cheat on their husbands, Rosa is the obvious choice for Natsuhi.” Battler huffs.</p><p>Beatrice barks a laugh, “Rosa and Natsuhi in a relationship? You utter fool! That pair would never work.”</p><p>“And why not?” Battler presses.</p><p>“No no,” Beatrice shakes a finger at him, “you tell me your reasoning first, why in the world do you think those two be a good fit for one another? The burden of proof is on you.”</p><p>“Well, they just - I don’t know!” Battler presses a fist to his head in frustration, “this is stupid.”</p><p>“I accept your concession.” Beatrice nods.</p><p>“Rosa and Natsuhi at least have something in common! They both uh,” Battler floundered, “they both love fashion!”</p><p>A scenario is conjured, two figures forming out of the swirling blue ether inside the box resting on the game board. The blue melts into the shapes of Natsuhi and Rosa. Inside Natsuhi’s room (behind a locked door. Always behind a locked door) Rosa was pinning and fitting a new dress on Natsuhi, who was trying not to gush about the design made just for her. It had been years since she felt so treasured. She felt special, watching someone as talented and busy as Rosa work on something just for her.</p><p>Rosa held a needle between her teeth, adjusting some ruffles on Natsuhi’s collar. She could feel Rosa’s breath on her.</p><p>“I’ve always admired your designs.” Natsuhi said suddenly.</p><p>Rosa flushed, “Thank you. I’ve actually had this one in mind for you for a while.” She admitted.</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“I’m envious of the way you keep your household together and maintain an elegant air. I could never hold my temper, let alone my family.”</p><p>Natsuhi opened and closed her mouth. She didn’t know what to say to that. She felt a sham.</p><p>Rosa continued, “It drove me mad, seeing you running the conference behind the scenes in father’s stead. I had to get this image of you out of my head.”</p><p>“You give me too much credit, I’m not a success like you, the only thing I have is this home.” Natsuhi turned her compliment into self-deprecation. “You have a sense of adventure I would never dare to have. And compared to Maria, Jessica is just-“</p><p>“That should do it.” Rosa cut her off. She smiled, “let’s have a look and see what you think before finishing the final adjustments, shall we?”</p><p>A hand leading Natsuhi on the small of her back, they approached the full-length mirror, the lavish dress. Natsuhi’s lips parted in a soundless gasp. It was lovely. Cascading lace and ruffles framed her hips and bracketed her arms. She looked like a proper head of household, a matriarch. Natsuhi felt cherished and powerful, a rare feeling. She felt, at that moment, the rightful heir to the Ushiromiya legacy.</p><p>She studied herself and her gaze gravitated to Rosa, like the moon turning to reflect the sun. A cosmic pull, anti-gravity. Their eyes met in the mirror before darting away. They both frowned, turning red. Burning stars. Smoldering in isolation, watching each other from afar.</p><p>Beatrice and Battler watch them from behind a fitting room curtain, Beatrice turns and makes a gagging motion. Battler swats her arm.</p><p>“I’m almost done, I just need to adjust the bodice.” Rosa said, circling Natsuhi and eyeing her with a not strictly-professional gaze.</p><p>She pulled the strings, a gust of air flew out of Natsuhi’s mouth. She caught sight of Rosa’s face and failed to retrieve the breath she had lost.</p><p>Rosa’s lips were parted, her bangs framing her face like a portrait in a frame. Her eyes heavily lidded and intense as her eyes dragged across Natsuhi slowly.</p><p>Rosa bit her lip and tugged the corset tighter, accenting Natsuhi’s curves and causing the whale bone stays to frame her ample breasts.</p><p>“This,” Natsuhi breathed, “this will do nicely.”</p><p>“Lame!” Beatrice crows, waving her pipe through Rosa and Natauhi’s forms, causing them to coalesce back into hazy matter, returning to the shifting ether of possibility that is the weekend of October 4th, 1986.</p><p>“Hey! You didn’t even see the part where they have to share a bed-“</p><p>“How unoriginal. Your incompetence never ceases to bore me.” Beatrice faux yawns.</p><p>“Oh really? Like the whole ‘trapped together in a small space’ and ‘unresolved sexual tension’ tropes being mixed together is such a daring synthesis? You hypocrite!” Battler says, slamming his fist on the table. A tea cake falls over before vanishing into a cloud of golden butterflies.</p><p>“Careful, you just might unearth your other hand’s Excalibur from it’s sacred home in your pocket. What are you even doing in there anyway?”</p><p>“I’m being suave! Debonair! A real detective is calm and cool. The lazy hand in the pocket look really fits the image. Don’t you think?” Battler rolled the wrist of his free hand.</p><p>“A real detective doesn’t snivel and scream at every murder.” Beatrice points out.</p><p>“And real witches aren’t so desperate to be acknowledged that they tourture one guy.” Battler fires back.</p><p>Beatrice huffs, pride stinging. Lucifer sneezes in the next room over, accidentally turning into stake form and embedding herself in a wall. Good thing the metaworld’s Schrodinger’s catbox was shatter-proof. Too bad no one’s heart could be the same. Gold can be fragile, remember? Are you paying attention? Everything is a clue. Don’t get complacent.</p><p>Without love it cannot be seen.</p><p>“Eva and Natsuhi are obviously the superior couple, regardless of the situation! Behold, Nora Roberts, I’ll show you another scenario! One that will make even your will falter!” Beatrice takes a deep draw from her pipe, inhaling largely, before blowing a plume of smoke into Battler’s face. He glares at her as the smoke dissipates, revealing them to be outside in the pouring rain, deep within Rokkenjima’s dark forest.</p><p>“Ugh! My heel!” Natsuhi stood up, brushing mud from her dress and dislodged the stiletto heel of her boot from the muck with a sucking, popping sound.</p><p>Eva was faring far better, relishing at the chance to show up Natsuhi and her whole family’s favor of that ridiculous Western fashion. Her Chinese flats were serving her well.</p><p>“Maybe I could be persuaded. If there’s mud resting involved.” Battler says.</p><p>Beatrice moved her umbrella so he was caught in the downpour. Water, the lifeblood of our existence, a necessity and nuisance.</p><p>“It was a joke! C’mon!” Battler scoots back under the umbrella next to her. He was sure that Beatrice got to decide whether meta world beings were affected by the weather or not. So unfair.</p><p>Eva approached Natsuhi, grinning, “you seem to be having trouble.”</p><p>“I am just fine.” Natsuhi snapped, “a lady must be prepared for anything.”</p><p>“Hmph. Well you do seem oh so prepared.” Eva snorted, taking her arm while Natsuhi spluttered, “This way, it shouldn’t be much farther. I snuck off the chapel to be alone when I was a kid. I still remember the way.”</p><p>Natsuhi (grudgingly) gratefully held tight to Eva’s steady arm. The silk of her gloves gave her all the more reason to press close and hold tight. “I can’t imagine someone as boastful as you needing alone time. Who can you show off too when you’re by yourself?” She sniffed, clamoring for tatters of dignity behind barbs, as usual.</p><p>Eva suddenly let her go and Natsuhi slipped, her heel catching on a tree root. She fell into the mud and glared at Eva, who said coolly “Maybe I should just leave you by yourself and see how you fare.”</p><p>Natsuhi continued to glare for a moment then closed her eyes right with a sigh. “I’m sorry” she bit out.</p><p>Eva offered her an arm up and they trudged onward into the pouring night.</p><p>A clearing opened up to reveal the chapel. Natsuhi was relieved yet felt a little empty when Eva disengaged from her grip to climb the stairs and try the door. It’s locked tight.</p><p>“Damn.” Eva looked around them, studying the gloom of the forest. The trees shook like an ornery fist in the harsh storm-brewed winds. She couldn’t remember how long they had been walking. The rain was worsening and there was no other option for shelter. They couldn’t go back to the main house or guest house when they were wanted for murder. Neither of them really wanted to, anyhow.</p><p>Natsuhi sighed heavily, weariness and hopelessness catching up with her. What the hell had they been thinking?</p><p>She leaned heavily against one of the lion statues that adorned that bottom of the stairs.</p><p>A rumbling and groaning sound made Natsuhi’s teeth chatter and she stumbled away from the now rotating statue. The ground shook. A door was revealed in the space the statue was previously occupying.</p><p>“a secret passageway? That is SO against Knox’s rules.” Battler mutters, “what is this, Lost? ‘My god, a secret hatch!’” He frames his face with his hands in mock surprise.</p><p>Beatrice pointedly ignores him. Pointillism. Don’t look too closely in one spot or you’ll ruin the picture. This is bigger than a single speck. But a single inconsistent mark on a page can ruin the whole image, the illusion. There are rules in place for a reason, you see?</p><p>Eva and Natsuhi peered down into the dark chamber, a stone stairwell leading into pitch black. Drops of rain slid off their bodies and vanished into the dark. The wind howled, pushing at their backs. What other salvation have you? Hurry up. Go on, then. Nothing ventured, nothing lost.</p><p>Eva sneered at Natsuhi, “What is that saying, again? Ladies first? After you. Since you insist on your station and being more of a lady than me.”</p><p>Natsuhi sniffed and hiked up her skirts, primly descending the stairs. She wished she had brought the shotgun. Mostly for her own sake. Despite complicated feelings about Eva, Natsuhi didn’t feel that she could fully trust her.</p><p>She couldn’t trust even herself. What was trust when your livelihood was built on a web of lies?</p><p>“Secret tunnels. As expected of father.” Eva said, peering around Natsuhi.</p><p>Battler shot Beatrice a look as they followed after, silent ghosts, footstepless and intangible. (Im)partial observers.</p><p>Eva and Natsuhi’s footsteps echoed against the stone floor, reaching back at them with accusations and incriminations. Natsuhi pressed onward, holding her hands out in an attempt to parse anything in the bleak empty. What was this place? How long has it been here? Did father make these tunnels? Did he even know? Is this even real? There’s no way, it’s ridiculous. Had they died? Was this purgatory? Her personal hell? Hasn’t that just been her entire life prior? Was there no escape? Even in this?</p><p>“Oh fuck!” Natsuhi jumped with a start as her hands connected with a door.</p><p>“What! What is it?” Eva cried, ducking behind Natsuhi.</p><p>“It’s- there’s a door.”</p><p>Eva straightened. “Why’d you scream?”</p><p>“It startled me. Shut up.”</p><p>“Well?”</p><p>“Well what?” Natsuhi snapped.</p><p>“Are you going to open it?” Natsuhi could hear more than see Eva rolling her eyes.</p><p>“Do shut up.”</p><p>“Do open up” Eva mocked in a prissy voice.</p><p>“We don’t know what’s in there!” Natsuhi insisted, a waver to her voice.</p><p>Eva pushed her out of the way and opened the door.</p><p>She froze.</p><p>She stared at the room ahead, not blinking. Not breathing. With that much gold she could pay someone to blink and breathe for her.</p><p>“Well? What’s in there?”</p><p>“Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Actually, you should probably turn back, I’ll stay here and-“</p><p>Natsuhi poked her head in the room and gaped like a mackerel.</p><p>A lavish bedroom lay before them, the customary gown of Beatrice, the golden witch, resting in a glass case, suspended in preparation of the next wearer. A large four poster bed lay in opulence in the center. A curtain of brocade and crushed red velvet billowing from the top, tied with golden tassels. A large grandfather clock ticked an ominous rhythm, flanked by an intricate fluer de li pattern on the walls.</p><p>This was all overshadowed by the mountain of honest-to-god fucking gold bars that sat on the plush carpet.</p><p>“Goodness.” Natsuhi breathed.</p><p>“That son of a bitch wasn’t lying.” Eva whispered.</p><p>They stand stock still. Silent. In case everything before them was a dream. An illusion. A mere vision that could be chased away by an arrant breath. The delicate frailty of a dream coming true. Be careful what you wish for. Midas’ touch was loving.</p><p>Battler and Beatrice sit on the bed playing cards. Go Fish is best played on an island, after all. What is a person, a soul, besides an island? Got any queens?</p><p>Battler yawns, “Of course it’s an illusion. Gold bars in a secret tunnel? Get real.”</p><p>Beatrice grits her teeth, “Shut up! You are ruining my whirlwind romance! I worked very hard on it! You have no appreciation for the fine art of portraying love!”</p><p>“Yeah yeah, whatever. but I can’t get over the gold. You just wanted to use a Midas allegory for drama didn’t you? Plus it fits your title.”</p><p>Beatrice’s eyes glowed red, her voice booming in the magical scarlet tones of unequivocal truth, “there are gold bars on Rokkenjima.”</p><p>“Fuck!”</p><p>“They’re about to.” Beatrice smirks at him and waggles her eyebrows.</p><p>“Ugh, gross!” Battler covered his eyes, “I’m not going to watch. Tell me when it’s over.”</p><p>In their exhaustion, their exuberation, they met each other in a fierce kiss.</p><p>The tumbled into the bed together. Down, down and down farther still. Bad decisions beneath bad decisions. Let the storm wash it all away. New beginnings. As if nothing happened. And then there were none.</p><p>“They fuck because of gold. And that’s the basis for a healthy relationship? Really? What about after? They’ll leave the island, be rich, argue and grow to hate each other. You didn’t take any of the after into consideration. It’s unrealistic!”</p><p>Something complicated passed over Beatrice’s face. “I have no control over what happens outside of the weekend on this island. That’s the domain where my powers lay.” She said quietly.</p><p>Battler was wrong-footed. “Well. Still. It’s bullshit. You have no idea what the Ushiromiya family is like. You can’t prove a thing to me.”</p><p>That is the burden of our pride. The isolation. The detective removes himself from the mystery. An impartial observer, only there to inspect, to solve. The burden of proof, the turmoil of pride. ‘Look at our intellect,’ we cry, ‘We are in the right! You are wrong!’ we push others away in our ego. The notion we could be wrong, be hurt, stings. We raise our hackles. The pursuit of knowledge, scientific and untainted by feelings. No one can hurt you when you’re ten steps ahead. Best not to get attached. Would competitors in a race connect with their opponents? Why should a member of the audience matter when all there is between an athlete and the track is time? The only worthwhile opponent is the self. We protect ourselves. Better ourselves for the distant praise of others and the smug satisfaction of knowing we are right. Standing on the winner’s platform we overlook the crowd. It’s lonely at the top. Lovely and lonely and just how we like it. Teeth bared in a victory smile that’s more snarl than joy. Stay away before I discover the truth. Stay away before I find you out.</p><p>Before I ruin you, as well.</p><p>But stories are not static, characters develop. We are no longer what we once were. Come, let us change the script. Let us evaluate without the self, to seek only to understand. To listen and not judge. To forgive rather than hunt revenge. Find the glimmer of good in the mountain of anguish. ( After all, without love it cannot be seen. And without seeing, truly seeing, there can be no love).</p><p>—</p><p>Rain pounded on the roof like a jilted lover at the door. Who’s in there with you? What secrets are you hiding? You can’t keep me out forever. Thunder tore across the sky in the wake of flashes of lighting. Each boom shook the house. Natsuhi shook of her own accord. No solid foundation, no solid alibi.</p><p>Eva had sought to speak to her alone and now had her cornered, physically and metaphorically.</p><p>Eva brandished the bent receipt slip at her, “care to explain why this is crinkled? I placed this in the hinge of the door to father’s study. You claimed he hasn’t left nor allowed anyone to enter.”</p><p>Natsuhi’s eyes darted to the side, “Wh- How should I know!” Her heart darted in her chest.</p><p>“You’ve allegedly been the sole person to have spoken with him. So, you’ve entered the study? Or did he leave without anyone knowing?” Eva took a step forward.</p><p>Natsuhi unintentionally took a step backward. Backpedaling. “No, no one has the key but father. Not even the servants. I have no idea what you’re trying to accuse me of.”</p><p>“Really? You haven’t been lying about speaking to him? I don’t believe for a second that he would enstate you as his mouthpiece. He’s never trusted you.”</p><p>Natsuhi bared her teeth, “How dare you! You know nothing or the bond between me and father! You’re the one who is acting suspicious, accusing everyone of underhanded deeds. The rest of the family isn’t as cold-hearted as you.”</p><p>Eva looked down on her. “Then you must not know this family that well.”</p><p>Lighting struck, snaking up from the ground and illuminating the dim room in a brilliant flash of white-</p><p>Natsuhi dove forward and shoved Eva back before withdrawing a knife from her skirts.</p><p>Eva’s head hit the ground and the world swam before she saw and felt Natsuhi drive the knife into her chest.</p><p>Eva gasped. “Damn you! You’re better than this!” she snarled, grasping for Natsuhi’s throat. Sometimes a heart is like a leaf holding on after the first snowfall. Shriveled and alone, hoping for the impossible. At the point of no return, what other options have you?</p><p>“Shut up!” Natsuhi screamed, stabbing frantically, her junkyard of a heart crumbling,“You know nothing about me! This is what I am! Stop looking down on me!”</p><p>Eva’s feet scrabbled at the floor for purchase. She was losing vision, control of her limbs. Her hands slid from Natsuhi and fell to the floor gracelessly. Her bracelet clacked against the wooden floor with a hollow sound.</p><p>Natsuhi braced herself for another, final, cutting jab from Eva.</p><p>None came.</p><p>Battler and Beatrice watched from underneath the bed.</p><p>He turned to her, resting his face on a palm, the bed skirts framing his face, “wasn’t this supposed to be a love story?” What is a story but an effort of love? What is effort but an expression of love?</p><p>“It is.” Beatrice said, still watching the two women. Natsuhi started crying and crumpled against Eva’s still body.</p><p>Battler clicked his tongue, “as expected of someone as twisted as you.”</p><p>“Not all love stories are pleasant. Sometimes they have unhappy endings.” She defended.</p><p>“Hm.” Battler hummed, “I won’t accept that.” He declared.</p><p>Beatrice finally turned to look back at him. “Oh?”</p><p>“If it’s true love, there has to be a happy ending.” Battler said emphatically.</p><p>“How idealistic. Are you a child?” Beatrice sighed, a small frown on her face.</p><p>He bumped her foot with his own. “I’m serious, there may be strife and distrust but a real loving relationship would have a happy outcome.”</p><p>“And what about tragedies? Romeo and Juliet?”</p><p>“Well, they’re happy up until the absolute end, right? That’s what makes it so heart wrenching. The happy ending happened, it just was cut short.”</p><p>“And here I was thinking you were actually a hard boiled detective, but now I know you’re just a sap.” Beatrice said pushing her foot back against his.</p><p>“And writing love story after love story is what a truly heartless and evil witch would do.” Battler tapped his foot against Beatrice’s ankle, ignoring the scribble of a heartbeat in his veins.</p><p>“That’s all part of my dastardly plan. To evoke an emotion, you show a scene with opposite feeling prior.”</p><p>Emotions running high, blood running hot. Hearts running away with each other. Battler leans forward. Beatrice meets him halfway before either of them can think better or if.</p><p>It happens, one minute you’re under a bed watching an iteration of your aunt get murdered and the next your making out with a witch, bodies flush and hands grasping desperately. We’ve all been there. We’re all made of the same starstuff, of course we’ve been where you’ve been. We are one in the same. All shards of the same glass box. Without love it cannot he seen.</p><p>Battler gasps as Beatrice bites his neck.</p><p>He grinds a thigh between her legs. Or as close as he can get, her dress is extremely poofy. She makes a sound of appreciation and rolls over on top of him, the bed suddenly and miraculously being tall enough-</p><p>“Oh my gosh, you two are disgusting!” Lambdadelta crowed, looking down into the box of possibilities for Rokkenjima. She and Bernkastel sat at a table amidst the sea of fragments, laughing at the pair who suddenly found themselves sprawled on the disheveled gameboard table, tea and cakes scattering to the floor.</p><p>They drew back from each other like they had been burned. Fire leaves a mark, doesn’t it? It spreads and seeks.</p><p>“Putrid.” Bernkastel agreed, sneering.</p><p>Beatrice patted her hair into order while Battler adjusted his clothing. He sat down and not-so-subtly crossed his legs.</p><p>Beatrice leaned back in her seat and summoned her pipe, taking a forcibly casual draw from it before speaking. “My witchly superiors, for what do I owe the honor of your visit? As you can see I am in the midst of tormenting this mortal fool in a drawn out power play. I’m playing the long game, you see.”</p><p>“Excuse m-“ started Battler before Benkastel cut him off.</p><p>“Cut the shit.” She slammed her fist on the table, rattling the plane of existence Beatrice and Battler were currently on. As soon as her fist struck, Bernkastel and Lambdadelta appeared in the room with them. The box on the table in front of Beatrice, containing the possibilities of Rokkenjima, quaked and tottered dangerously close to the edge of the table. Her meaning, her duty, her existence. Beatrice didn’t miss the threat.</p><p>“It was so much more interesting to hear about Eva and Natsuhi!” Lambdadelta said, summoning a bag of caramelcorn drizzled with chocolate, and clapped her hands, “chop chop, Beato, I want more! Make them dress up as maids next.”</p><p>“I much preferred hearing Battler and Beatrice arguing about shipping.” Bernkastel’s tail swished, her eyes darkening like a storm brewing.</p><p>“What?!” Lambdadelta spit out some popcorn, it splattered on Battler, who’s erection was fully quashed by now. “Bern, that part was lame! Who cares about meta bologna?”</p><p>“I do” Bernkastel said solemnly.</p><p>“Snore!” Lambdadelta announced with a yawn.</p><p>“As if you could focus long enough to have taste.” Bernkastel said cooly, flipping a long strand of blue hair over her shoulder.</p><p>“I can pay attention! Sorry I don’t care about a tea party segment’s own tea party. I don’t need a play by play commentary of something I just read. I can make my own opinions. Maybe a hundred years of summer in a past life broke your brain.” Lambdadelta pointed to her own temple with a sneer.</p><p>“I’ll break your brain by piercing it with a rusty weathervane, my dear.” Bernkastel purred, cracking her knuckles.</p><p>“Sweetheart, I’ll give you a thousand papercuts and squeeze a lemon drop in each and every one.” Lambdadelta smiled a smile that was far too wide and far too sharp to be possible.</p><p>Bernkastel’s blank eyes narrowed. “I’ll wear your innards as a scarf to keep me warm.”</p><p>“Your scalp will make a lovely wig.”</p><p>“I’ll use your legs as giant chopsticks, the blood will add flavor!”</p><p>“I can’t wait to taste your eyeballs as an ice cream topping, served warm in the sockets!”</p><p>“Lambda, I can’t wait to break you and use the torn pieces of your flesh as a litter box.”</p><p>“I can’t wait to break your spine and use it to decorate a cute scrapbook of pictures of your mutilated corpse.”</p><p>Beatrice and Battler look between them like spectators at a verbal tennis match. No score yet. Love - Love.</p><p>What is love? Who defines a happy ending? The characters? The author? The reader? I’ll leave that up for you to decide.</p><p>Bernkastel and Lambdadelta rush at one another, dimensional power sparking and realities flying apart, tearing into one another. Stories are born and destroyed, countless lives brought to ruin in a cosmic duel. Blood, organs, fur, pages, and candy fly through the air.</p><p>Beatrice and Battler hide under the table and munch on tea cakes.</p><p>“They’re my otp, you know.” Beatrice whispers.</p><p>“Your what?” Battler asks.</p><p>“Don’t you know anything?”</p>
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